Training Exercise
by Meredith T. Tasaki
Summary: Once upon a time, the Academy held a schoolwide training exercise, simulating first contact between the Federation and a new civilization. This is the story of why they stopped. Blame Jimmy Kirk...


Training Exercise

Rating: PG-13/"T", mostly language

Summary: Once upon a time, the Academy held a school-wide training exercise, simulating first contact between the Federation and a new civilization. This is the story of why they stopped. Blame Jimmy Kirk...

Disclaimer: Star Trek is not mine. Neither are Kirk and Spock. Everyone else, I believe, is my invention.

Notes: Nothing of much substance; came up with it years ago, and have_ finally_ managed to get it done. I hope it's not confusing or anything.

Joyce Langston, for the curious, also appears in an incredibly long Fullmetal Alchemist crossover fic that I probably will not finish any time before hell freezes over. If you were curious. But if I ever do finish it, look for hell to freeze over sometime within the next week. I mean... I don't remember what I meant. (eh heh) Jimmy's friends could be in a story I haven't even begun yet and quite possibly never will... so... why I think anyone would want to know this, I have no clue.

(-)

"This," Starfleet Academy Cadet Joyce Langston said, "will be the most fun any of us has ever had."

Her acquaintance, Cadet Spock, blinked mildly at her. "Sarcasm, I assume?"

"I'm starting to think that's the only good I'm doing here, helping you learn to recognise sarcasm. Indeed it was."

"By which I assume you mean that it will _not_ be fun."

"Most certainly it will not," she replied. "Ask anyone. Hey!" she interjected, at a student named Josh entering the room. "This training thing. It will be either boring or a disaster, right?"

"Yeah, and I'm betting on the first," Josh replied, sitting down.

Spock blinked. "I do not believe that gambling is permitted under the--"

"Figuratively!" he amended hurriedly, undoubtably thinking something dark about Vulcans and their logic. "Heaven's sake, why the hell can't you understand _figuratively_?"

Spock pondered for a moment on the possible meanings of this sentence and decided the wisest course would be not to answer.

"I hear they get little kids to play extras," Joyce added.

"That is _so stupid_," said Josh. "_Kids_? Please God tell me they don't give 'em phasers."

"Hopefully they're not _that_ stupid. But children? _Terran_ children in particular? Recipe for disaster."

"Oh, come on," Josh said scornfully. "Nothing interesting ever happens at these things. Take it from me, it's gonna be boring, _especially_ if you aren't negotiating."

"Wouldn't the negotiations be boring too?" Joyce asked.

"Well, yeah, but at least you do _something_. What, are _you_ doing the negotiations? Can't be."

"Yeah, I'm not," she confirmed. "I think they said I was the... communications and second officer, on the-- what was it, I should remember-- on the 'Bravery', which I find exceedingly ironic."

"Wow, pretty high for your third semester," he commented, "even if it _is_ just a backup ship. Me, I think I'm some kind of alien sub-general, which is pretty low for your seventh semester, but what can you do?"

"How do they _do_ this stuff, anyway?" she asked. "Is it on a stage or something?"

"They use the Walt Disney Lunar Amusement Park," he said drily. "They build an 'alien planet' and lend the Academy their bridge-simulators, which is why they let 'em be so acucrate. They program the computers to tell you you're wherever, but you're never actually in starships. It's all hovercraft."

"Thank God," Joyce said reverently. "Otherwise we'd all be dead very fast..."

"Explosive decompression does induce a rather rapid death," she added for Spock's benefit.

"Indeed," Spock said.

"But, logically," Josh said, to needle Spock, "It's really unlikely that there's going to be a disaster this time. How many are there likely to be, ever? And how likely is it that we'll just _happen_ to be there when it does?"

"Someone has to," Joyce pointed out. But that was the last word she said, as another student entered the room and the talk immediately turned to sports. Knowing nothing about such things, she merely sat where she was and had bad premonitions.

(-)

"Hello, children," the principal said.

"Hello, Ms. Jones, sir," they chorused.

"I bet you're all wondering why you've been chosen to stay after school," she said, smiling. "No, it isn't some sort of mass detention."

Jimmy Kirk looked at her blandly. He knew already that wasn't it; while it wasn't unlikely at all for him to be in detention, that wuss Malik was there, and Malik had never been in detention in all his life. While this had been obvious to Jim, Malik, for one, looked relieved.

"You students," Ms. Jones explained, beaming, "have been specially chosen for the great honor of participating in a Starfleet Academy training exercise. Mr. Miller will answer any questions you have later, but I'm here right now."

Jim's hand shot up. "Do we get to shoot phasers and stuff?" he asked eagerly, not waiting to be called on.

"No, I don't think so," she said, smiling warmly. "At least, not real ones."

He lowered his hand, disappointed. What fun was it without phasers?

Rebecca Parker, who was as much of a wuss as Malik, raised her hand. "How long will we be gone?" she asked.

"About a week. Think of it as a field trip." She smiled.

"When is this?" asked Mike, one of the older students in the room. He never got into trouble, and Jim, therefore, did not know him.

"In a month. Mr. Miller will give you notices to take home, as well as permission sheets and so on."

"So it's like a play?" asked Minako, who acted sweet in front of teachers, but had once come remarkably close to beating him up. After that, he walked carefully around her friend Marie, because although he was pretty confident he was stronger than he was last time, he wasn't crazy enough to risk inviting Minako's wrath again.

"Yes," she replied. "You'll be acting as the crew of an non-Federation starship."

"Wait a second!" Jim cried. "You mean we've gotta be aliens? I mean, aren't we going to be in the Federation?"

She shook her head. "No, you'll be members of another planet's army. Possibly you'll even be the captain! Don't you want to be a captain?"

"Yes! But-- in Starfleet! Why've we got to be the bad guys?" Jim demanded, feeling betrayed.

"Well, somebody has to be. And you'll really be working for Starfleet!"

He perked up immediately. "Y'mean we'll be double agents?"

"No, no, by acting these roles, you're helping to train a new generation of Starfleet officers."

This, Jim saw, was clearly bull. Maybe he was only thirteenth in the class, but he knew bull when he saw it. Though technically he wasn't allowed to call it bull.

"Your specific assignments are being handed out now," the principal said. "Make sure you understand it before you leave. I'm sure you'll make our school proud!"

Jim wrinkled his nose as he looked at the description. Not bloody likely. He was a captain, which was great, yeah, but he was a captain in the army of a civilization that ran around conquering planets like the darn Roman Empire.

But he _was_ a captain. With a ship and a crew. A fake ship and a fake crew from a fake planet, but...

He raised his hand. "How are we supposed to play these parts, Mr. Miller? I mean, we aren't non-Federation soldiers, so..."

Mr. Miller, who had never expected to have to give acting advice when he decided to be a teacher, sighed. "Just think about what you would do if you _were_. Like... Imagine what it would be like to be from that planet. Imagine you hear of a strange new Federation of Planets on the news, and hear they're coming to negotiate. Your government orders you to stand on alert, or whatever they order you to do. Just-- try to act like you would if you were in that situation."

Jim thought about that. "If I was a captain..." he murmured to himself.

Slowly, very slowly, he grinned. Well, they'd told him to act the part, right? It was supposed to be lifelike, right? Well, he'd do exactly what he'd do if he was a non-Federation captain and he heard about the Federation. That was what they'd asked, right?

Jimmy meandered out the door with everyone else, plans forming in his head. It could be done. There was nothing wrong with it. And it'd shake things up a little. Probably he'd get in trouble, but trouble was his middle name. At least, that was what he told his classmates. It sounded cooler than "Tiberus". Also, it was more accurate.

They could never say he didn't warn them, he thought gleefully, and started on his way home.

(-)

Joyce looked around nervously. She should never have left so early; now she was the first one here. But it _did_ look like a starship bridge.

Funny how they'd objected to her wearing the type II uniform, she mused cynically, until they'd realized how bad she'd look in a miniskirt. Honestly. The Women's Movement had started hundreds of years ago, and sometimes it seemed like its work _still_ wasn't done.

Someone entered the bridge, and her heart sank. Of all the people, she thought, Ch'mik Shoi mi-Rimauh? Admiral Rimauh's little brat? Oh, God...

"Langston, I presume," he said loftily, arms crossed behind his back. Briefly Joyce wondered how he managed that with the wrist-blades. Maybe they retracted.

"Yes, sir," she said carefully.

"You've shown up early. I admire that," he said, with a pompus dignity that was truly amazing. Probably it came from being a 'child prodigy' and everything, and, time scales adjusted, being slated to be the youngest graduate of the Academy ever. He was younger than she was, and she herself had come in three years early.

"With a sloppy uniform," he added, with a sniff. "I admire that as well."

She blinked. "Excuse me? Sir?"

He smiled. "You," he pronounced, "are a rebel. I like that."

"Sir?" she said skeptically. As far as _she_ knew, she was obedient to the point of being reactionary. Maybe she'd changed and hadn't noticed.

"How about we ditch this gig as soon as we can?" he said, smiling.

"Excuse me?" she asked again, completely perplexed.

"How about," he said more slowly, "we try to shorten our stay here."

She blinked, amazed that Rimauh, who was supposed to be so stuffy, was suggesting... whatever he was suggesting.

More slowly, he said, "Let's get out of here as quick as possible."

"I heard you the first time, dumbass," she snapped, then slapped a hand to her mouth.

"Ah," he said, smiling. And, more quietly, "Classic denial for sake of hubris. Obviously trying to disguise her limited grasp of the language."

She toyed with the idea of hitting him. Obviously, he was a stuck-up brat and a rebel at the same time. It was very disconcerting and smacked of artificality. She considered telling him that, then decided it might disarray his present schema and cause permanent psycological damage.

Not, she thought, that that wouldn't be an improvement...

"Subject does not talk much," Rimauh said quietly to himself. "Obviously psychologically inferior."

Just as she was about to explain a few of the more vulgar idioms to him, a nervous-looking cadet walked onto the pusedo-Bridge.

"This is zhe Bravery?" he asked, nervous.

"Sure hope so," Joyce said idly, sliding into her seat. "I'm the psuedo-second officer, and this over here is psuedo-Captain Rimauh."

"Felicitations," Rimauh said, and Joyce rolled her eyes.

"...Oui," he replied, confirming Joyce's suspicions that his accent was French. "I am the science officer, I should stand here?"

"Yeah," Joyce said.

"Mr. Langston? If you would let me give out the orders?..."

She bristled quietly, still not accustomed to Fleet policy of addressing everyone in the masculine. It was a slightly backwater family she'd come from. "Whatever, sir."

"Yeah..." he said. "You should stand there." He sounded faintly bored; obviously this was all below his massive intelligence. Joyce hoped devoutly that someone would break his record.

"...Yes," he said doubtfully, and did.

"WOULD YOU STOP MAKING JOKES ABOUT MY UNDERWEAR!"

All three of them whirled around at the scream. It had come from a male cadet, presumably Mr. Miller, one of the navigations officers. Standing by him was what an unenlightened Terran would have called a very large gold cat, except with a pair of furry tentacles springing from its shoulders.

"Thanks a lot, Min," Miller muttered to the smug-looking Auraelian.

"Mr. Miller," Rimauh said, trying to sound unruffled and doing an annoyingly good job of it. "And Mr. Shiau, I presume."

"Yes," Shiau said lazily, as she slinked gracefully to her post.

"Repentant? She doesn't have a word for it," Miller muttered, going to accompany her with considerably less grace.

They all looked up at the sound of the shipwide hailing system. "Uh, I'm here."

Joyce punched up a link to Engineering. "Uh, I think you wanted the button next to that one there."

"Uh, sorry," he said, and switched. "I'm here."

"Our chief engineer," Rimauh said drily. "Well, we're almost all accounted for; now, we wait."

He paused. "Or we could leave."

"Uh, I really need the extra credit, sir," Miller said. It wasn't strictly true, but she _thought_ it was.

"Fine," Rimauh sighed.

Josh was right, Joyce thought. This was going to be hell.

(-)

"I see you have gone the honest way of making a living," he said suavely, clasping the woman's hands in his. "A woman so lovely as you could quite easily survive by making fools of men."

The cadet giggled. Spock watched dubiously, waiting for the simulation to officially start. Surely this was not the Terran idea of romance?

A chime sounded. "I have to get to my post," the girl said sadly.

"Ah-- the old sweet sorrow. But I am sure our paths may meet again." He smiled winningly.

The girl left, reluctantly, blowing him a kiss on the way.

He clapped his hands and strode briskly to Spock's side. "So. Time for work," he said, suddenly sans his French accent.

"Indeed," Spock said, unable to keep from raising an eyebrow.

"You're Spock, right?" he asked.

"Yes. And you are Mr. Fredrickson?"

"Don Juan de Starfleet Academy," he said, and bowed deeply. "At your service."

Spock blinked. "I believe we are of the same rank; therefore, I am neither allowed nor inclined to ask your service."

"Right," he said; "probably you should ignore nine-tenths of what I say. That's what I do."

Spock blinked again. "And exactly how is that possible?"

He shrugged. "All you need is love, man."

Spock was now quite thoroughly confused. Fortunately for him, the other ambassadors chose that moment to make their entrance.

"Hello," the female said cordially. "I am Sh'mikh Ina sherro-P'shaitoln, and this is Sh'makh Shao merro-Katail'lin. We are high-ranking officials in the Ro'jedian Empire."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance," Fredrickson said, and bowed. "I am ambassador Juliet Fredrickson, and this is ambassador Spock, of the United Federation of Planets."

"...Yes," she said, thrown off, most likely because Fredrickson had said his first name was Juliet. This was a lie, Spock noted, and not the wisest way to begin negotiations. "Please sit down."

Spock and Fredrickson obeyed.

"We," the Sh'makh said politely, "intend to commandeer or destroy all of the vessels you have brought to these negotiations and use them to conquer your own Federation."

"Yes," the Sh'mikh said. "Our race dearly loves irony."

Spock blinked. "And what is the logic in telling us this?"

"We love irony," said the Sh'makh.

"And we're not going to tell our superiors this, why?" Fredrickson inquired politely.

"Because we've blocked your communicators," the Sh'mikh said, smiling.

"How the hell do you know how our communicators work?" Fredrickson asked, still polite.

"I believe it is in the records that our predeessors, upon first contact, were very free with their technical knowledge," Spock answered. "Even had they not, any intelligent creature with sufficiently advanced technology could easily block our comm signals."

"Indeed," said the Sh'makh.

"...This is quite intriguing," Fredrickson said. "And how do you intend to penetrate our shields?"

"We had intended to fight you outright," the Sh'makh said, "but when we saw that three of your ships were unshielded, we could not resist the temptation."

"Idiots," Fredrickson muttered.

"We have commandeered them already," said the Sh'mikh. "We intend to wait until an opportune moment presents itself, and then attack your ships, with our fleet and the three small ships of yours that are now under our command."

"That's a very good strategy," Fredrickson commented. "We're probably screwed."

"Indeed," the Sh'mikh said, smiling.

"So, what are you going to do with us?" he asked.

"Give you three minutes' head start, and see how long you can evade the palace guards."

"Ah," Fredrickson said. "And when does our three minutes start?"

"Two minutes and fifteen seconds ago," said the Sh'mikh.

"Indeed." Fredrickson sat there for a moment. "We should probably leave then."

"Yes," Spock and the Sh'mikh said.

"Well," Fredrickson said, and rose. "Toodle-oo." He turned sedately and ran like hell. Spock, with somewhat more dignity, followed.

The Sh'mikh frowned. "'Toodle-oo'?" she repeated.

The Sh'makh snorted. "Ah, ignore Fredrickson. He's full of it."

"You've heard of him?"

"Yeah--I've, uh, heard of him."

"Ah."

"Heartless bastard," he muttered to himself, looking the other way.

"...Riiiiight."

(-)

"Landing party," Joyce muttered. "Why the hell a landing party? We already know who runs this place!"

"I believe the... Captain... merely wished to be rid of us," Shiau opined.

"Alicha, I hate that brat," Mi'ri snapped. Avian Mi'ri was a fifth-semester cadet who was one of the "random people" assigned to the _Bravery_'s crew. "On my world he would be eaten."

Joyce looked beyond Mi'ri's iridescent, sky-blue feathers to her twelve razor-sharp talons, and believed it.

"If I may say so, Commander," she added, tiring of hopping and taking wing.

"You may," Joyce said.

"Uh, sir?" Miller asked. "What are we even supposed to be doing?"

There was a silence.

"You mean, none of you knew either?" Joyce asked, incredulous.

They shook their heads.

"I, uh, guess we should maybe then find out," she said, and took out her communicator.

"There!" A little boy struggled through the bushes. "See, Mina? Told you someone beamed down!"

"Shut up, Jim," Minako said eloquently, spitting out leaves.

"Did we have to run?" Marie asked plaintively. "They weren't going anywhere..."

Joyce blinked.

"I could eat them," Shiau said helpfully.

"Uh, who exactly _are_ you?" Joyce asked.

"Oh, I'm Jim Kirk, this is Tsukishirou Minako, and this is Marie... Don't really know her last name."

"Fuller," Marie supplied.

"...And, who exactly are you?"

"Oh, we're from PS 1-465-47," Jim explained. "In Iowa."

"_Nobody_ calls it that anymore, what's wrong with you?" Minako snapped.

Jim held his chin up. "Iowan pride."

Minako looked away and sighed shortly, a little "Oh holy God, he's so pathetic and he's speaking for us" sigh.

Joyce was starting to feel bemused, which she thought was probably bad. "Riight... Who exactly are you?"

"Extras," Minako said.

"Yeah, I'm supposed to be a Captain of the Ro'jedian Empire," Jim said. "This is my second-in-command Minako and Ensign... Fuller."

"You brought your second-in-command along?" Miller said skeptically.

"Yeah, what's wrong with that?"

"So..." Joyce said. "What exactly are you doing here?"

Jim grinned, a wide, charming, evilly innocent grin.

"We're defecting!" he said proudly.

"...Excuse me!"

"We're _defecting_," Jim repeated slowly. Suddenly he wondered if she was perhaps a little slow. "Coming to your side?"

"Bloody hell, I'm sick of being patronized by children!" Joyce yelled. "Yes! I _know_ what bloody defecting means! I am merely stunned that you have the audacity to attempt it!"

"...The what?"

Joyce immediately felt better. "Audacity. Nerve. Strange, unfounded bravery. Or, in short, you defecting from your fleet. Not that-- there really _is_ a fleet, but whatever."

"Right," Jim said. "So we can join you?"

"Is that legal?" Miller asked. "Do you have the authority?"

Jim shrugged. "My ship."

"Not legally..."

"It isn't _really_ a ship at all!" Joyce cried.

"Still mine," Jim said. Mi'ri and Shiau agreed.

"For all practical purposes," Miller said thoughtfully.

"Just you?" Joyce asked.

"I persuaded a couple other ships too," Jim said.

"...How many is a couple?"

"...Seventeen."

Joyce's eyebrows went up. "_Seventeen_?"

"Yep."

"This was planned, right?"

"Nope," Minako said bitterly. "They're gonna kill us."

"Okay then..."

"Commander!" Shiau hissed, and dragged her back. "What if they are double agents?"

"I heard that!" Minako cried.

"Heard what?" Jim asked.

"They think we're double agents."

"But we're not!" cried Marie.

"All-- all right!" Joyce said, overwhelmed. "All right, I believe you. Let's get back to the ship and tell the Captain." She flipped open her communicator. "Langston to Bravery."

"Uh..." It was the voice of the chief engineer again. "Hi."

"Seven to beam up."

"Okay, uh, just a sec... Wait! Weren't there four of you?"

"Yeah, but we have some friends," she said.

"Oh, good. Okay, I'm beaming you up now."

(Good?) Joyce thought, before the transporter took her.

"Hi," said the chief engineer.

"Uh, hi," Joyce said. "We're going to the bridge."

"Oh, you should probably know they conquered the ship."

She spun around. "Excuse me?"

"We, uh, forgot to put the shields back up, and they beamed aboard and killed everybody. Except they're not really dead. And then they left."

"They just... left?" Joyce asked skeptically.

"The sub-general guy who did it, uh, wasn't really into his job, if you know what I mean," the chief engineer explained. "I was okay because I hid behind the thingy here. But the Captain and the French guy and that other person, they're gone."

"So... there's no one up there."

"Yes."

"So who's in charge?"

"Uh, I guess, now, you."

Joyce blinked. "What?"

"You are, sir," Miller said.

"...Oh sweet God."

"Don't worry," Jim said seriously. "We will avenge the murder of your shipmates."

Shiau growled. "Oh, yes. This will be avenged..."

"You're all bloody lunatics!" Joyce cried, hitting an octave she hadn't reached since she was twelve. She strode away.

The people remaining glanced at each other nervously. But before anyone could say something, Joyce returned.

"I was going to storm off," she said, tearfully, "but there's nowhere to storm off _to_!" She leaned against the wall and started to sob quietly to herself.

"...Commander..." Shiau said.

"I'M A BLOODY CADET, DAMN IT!" she yelled.

"Dude," Miller said. "Calm down, ma'am. It's just a game. All right?"

"Look at the bright side," Mi'ri suggested. "That ki'ri'che Rimauh will be gone now."

"...He'll like that." Joyce coughed loudly and brushed herself off. "So you said you want a revolution?"

"Yeah," said Jim. "Hey, maybe if they left your ship alone, they did the others too!"

"Yes... but how do we find out?"

"We're supposed to be on their side," Jim said cheerfully. "We'll just go up there and hail everyone, and if they _have_ been commandeered, we'll just say we were trying to make a status report, and if not, they can join us! You'll all have to hide behind the chairs or something, though."

"He's right," Shi'au said, staring at the boy with something rather like admiration. "I don't believe it. You have a cunning mind for one so young! You'll be a Starfleet captain for real one day, of that I have no doubt."

Jim flushed with pride. "Thanks!"

"Oh, God, now we'll NEVER get him to shut up!" Minako moaned.

"A real Starfleet cadet!" Jim said, grinning. "Said I have what it takes."

"Oh, God," Marie echoed, "you're _right_..."

"Well, what are we waiting for, then?" said Joyce.

"You," said Mi'ri.

"...Eh. Let's get up to the bridge!"

(-)

"So," Fredrickson said, panting, as they ducked behing a column. "You're the Vulcan genius. Any bright ideas?"

"Yes." Spock took out a laptop and stylus and started typing.

"What good will _that_ do?"

"I'm reconfiguring the stylus to emit waves of similar frequency to that of a practice phaser," Spock explained.

"...You can _do_ that?"

"Yes. I do not know if it will work, but it does seem our best option."

Fredrickson shrugged. "Yeah, you're right. You got it done yet? Sounds like someone's coming."

"Yes, I know." Spock glanced around the column and caluclated the approximate distance of the approaching guard. Four point nine three seconds later, he turned and launched the stylus with deadly accuracy.

"What the?" The guard looked down at his vest as the light turned from green to red. "I've been fragged! How the HELL!"

"Think of it as a poison dart," Fredrickson said, raiding him for weapons and tossing a "phaser" to Spock. "Now go away."

"I know the damn rules!" the guard yelled, and walked furiously away.

Of course, the guard's yells had not gone unnoticed, and several guards could be heard running to investigate. Fredrickson ducked behind a column with his "phaser rifle", a strange, bloodthirsty grin spreading across his face. "Not bad. Now let me show you how it's done."

Thirty seconds later, as they gathered up the resentful guards' weapons, Spock reflected that rationality and weapons skills were in no way correlated. And despite Fredrickson's borderline insanity, he was obviously going to be useful to have around.

He stored this fact in his memory, knowing that it would probably come in handy on a starship later.

"C'mon, liberty or death, man!"

Spock made no comment, but followed.

(-)

"So," Marie said, studying a flier, "we have, all in all... A little less than half the available ships."

"Where'd you get that?" Joyce asked, reading over her shoulder.

She shrugged. "They handed them out in orientation. I thought it might be useful."

"Let me see that..." Miller took the paper. "Does this thing say they're _taping_ this!"

"What!" Joyce looked closer. "This thing DOES say they're taping this!"

Marie blanched. "Ohmigod," she cried, looking wildly around for cameras.

Miyako smacked Jim upside the head. "You IDIOT! Now they'll KNOW it was us!"

"Ow!" Jim cried, irritated. "Who _cares_ if they're taping it? Let's give 'em a good show, then!"

"You can't be serious!" Shi'au cried. "They cannot tape us without our permission!"

"But they have it," Joyce said, and blinked. "Nobody else read the fine print on the enrollment papers?"

"Alicha!" Mi'ri cried. "This entire thing is wild insanity! It must be stopped!"

"Well," Miller said, "our plan might go a long way toward stopping it, don't you think?"

Mi'ri stared at him. "...Battle stations!" she cried.

"That isn't _my_ line?"

"Sorry, sir."

"She's right," Jim said. "I've got to get back to my ship!"

"Wait, who's gonna coordinate all this?" Miyako asked. "Don't we have to know, like, who we're fighting and stuff like that?"

"I will," Jim said confidently.

Mr'ri blinked. "A child?"

Shi'au shrugged philosophically. "He's the one who's made all this possible, has he not?" she pointed out. "I think he has earned the right to lead this attack by virtue of the fact that he has made it possible."

"She's got a point," said Miller.

Joyce shrugged. "Sounds good to me. Okay! Battle stations, then!"

Mi'ri struggled to hop onto the Communications chair. "Stupid... alichai... chair... Can I take the science station instead?"

"Yeah, I should probably stay at Communications," Joyce realized, and sat down.

"Okay! We'll get back to our ship, then," Jim said, and jumped off the captain's chair reluctantly. "Wait for my orders before you start the attack. We've been working on a fire control system that we're hooking everybody into; the attack will start as soon as we're done."

Joyce blinked, then shrugged. "Yes, sir!" she cried, and threw him a salute.

"At ease," he said, grinning, and walked away.

"Did you hear that! She called me sir!"

"Kami-sa_maaaa_... Marie? Hit him, please?"

"OW!"

The cadets looked at each other and grinned.

"And a little child shall lead them," Miller said, turning back to his controls.

(-)

Spock and Fredrickson had, after a valiant struggle, been subdued by a mob of "palace guards".

"It isn't fair that you got tricorders!" Fredrickson had complained repeatedly. Spock was inclined to agree, but saw no point in upsetting the situation by making such a fuss about it.

"Ah. Welcome, Ambassadors," said the Sh'makh.

"I thought you said you were going to kill us," said Fredrickson. Unwisely, in Spock's opinion.

"Oh, we are," said the Sh'mikh pleasantly. "But we wanted to show you our fleet heading out to attack the Earth."

"Why?" Spock asked.

The others blinked at him.

"It hardly seems logical. Why give us any time to escape again?"

"You won't," said the Sh'makh. "Besides, we want to see you suffer." He glared at Fredrickson, who coughed and shuffled his feet.

"Uh, yeaah," said the Sh'mikh. "Okay. Not asking. Don't tell me. Bring up the viewing screen."

The screen on the wall showed a number of crudely simulated ships.

Which, Spock noticed with some surprise (which was not actually an emotion), were shooting at each other.

The officials did not seem to immediately notice the problem. "See? said the Sh'makh. "There they go, off to conquer... Wait. Is that supposed to be phaser fire?"

"Why would they be shooting at each other?" the Sh'mikh said blankly, then stalked over to the table and hit a button. "Admiral! Report!"

"I'm kinda BUSY up hereee!" someone yelled.

"What's happening!"

"One of those stupid damn schoolkids got the idea of defecting! Then he got a lot of OTHER stupid kids to join him! And then, some GENIUS left the Federation ships as soon as he'd commandeered them! And APPARENTLY left too many people alive, I don't see how!"

"He LEFT them!" yelled the Sh'makh. "Get him on the line!"

"Eh," said Josh sheepishly. "Sorry. I thought it was gonna be boring."

"You WHAT!"

"But I warned you that children'd be trouble! Ask people! They were there!"

"He did," Spock confirmed.

"Smart guy," commented Fredrickson.

"And since they were on our side, they've got all the--" An alarm blared. "Codes. GIUYMEWTE! Sorry, can't talk any longer. I've been blown up." He stabbed the button to end the conversation.

Another alarm sounded. "Yeah, me too, bye," said Josh, very quickly.

"You IDIOTS!" the Sh'makh screamed.

"Ah HA!" Jim Kirk, Marie, and Miyako beamed down into the throne room. "Give it up, vile aliens! Your fleet is destroyed and you are at our mercy!"

"GUARDS, IDIOT!" Miyako screamed, and fired her "phaser" indiscriminately. Marie followed her lead, and dragged her friends behind a column-- until she was "hit" and her phaser stopped working.

"YOU MORON! YOU KILLED MARIE!" Miyako hit hit upside the head repeatedly with her "phaser", teary-eyed.

"Shut up and let me shoot!" Jim yelled, taking out the last three guards regardless.

"Uh, I'm not actually dead," Marie pointed out.

"I don't care! He's still a moron!" Miyako kept hitting him.

"Sorry, sorry!" Jim yelled, and trained his phaser at the leaders. "You surrender?"

"Uh..." They looked at each other.

"Okay," said the Sh'mikh.

"What the hell," said the Sh'makh.

"All right!" Jim grabbed his communicator. "Kirk to _Bravery_. Beam some people down to help secure the palace! OW, MIYAKO! Stop it!"

"Uh, you want us to get the other ships to do the same thing?" Joyce suggested.

"Yeah, that'd be great. MIYAAAKOOO!"

"Right, I'll do that then," Joyce said, and the clannel closed. A few seconds later, Mitchell and Mi'ri appeared as backup.

"So, kid," said the Sh'makh. "How the hell did you pull this off, anyway?"

Jim cocked his head cutely, still aiming a "phaser" at him, as Mitchell armed the ambassadors with "phasers" too. "Well, first I got the idea to defect. And a bunch of other kids I was talking to before this started liked the idea too. And a bunch of _them_ were in command of ships, and the ones that _weren't_ talked their commanders into it, so we got a lot of ships that way. And we were gonna just _attack_, but we noticed someone'd sent down a landing party, so me an' my first officer Miyako an' Ensign Fuller here went down to investigate."

The Sh'mikh blinked. "You AND your first officer? Seems kinda reckless."

Jim shrugged. "Not to me! You gotta send the best you've got if you wanna be able to deal with whatever's down there! Then we met those people from the Bravery, these two, Miller and Mi'ri, and the first officer Joyce Langston and the navigation officer Shi'rau, Shi'rau is SO COOL."

Miyako hit him again.

"Joyce Langston?" Spock questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, you know her?"

"She is in several of my classes. I must say it is not entirely surprising that she became involved."

Jim grinned. "Yeah, she's pretty cool too. Anyway, they agreed to help us and beamed back up-- Oh, hi. Go make sure there aren't any guards still around, okay?" he instructed six people who had beamed down from three different ships.

"How could they beam back up?" the Sh'makh questioned.

"Oh, the Chief Engineer was still on there," Jim said.

The Sh'makh bowed his head. "That IDIOT."

"Yeah, and then we got some more ships together and we fought and we won and here we are!" Jim finished triumphantly.

"Huh," said the Sh'mikh, smiling. "Pretty impressive."

Jim beamed. "Thanks!"

"Oh, GOOOOD," Miyako moaned. "Now he'll REALLY never shut up about this!"

"He probably will if you hit him," Marie pointed out.

"No, that won't stop him." Miyako hung her head in despair.

"You really think so?"

"It hasn't worked YET, has it?"

Marie thought about it and conceded the point.

"So now what?" said Fredrickson.

"CADETS! CHILDREN!" An officer stormed into the room, looking furious. "ATTENTION!"

"I TOLD you we'd get in trouble!" Miyako hissed, as everyone in the room stepped into line.

"I don't care!" Jim whispered defiantly.

"Uh, I'm supposed to be dead," Marie said timidly. "Should I still stand in line?"

The officer put his head in his hand and pointed to the door. "Everyone. To the office. NOW."

"We _are_ in trouble," Jim sighed.

"We have not broken any rules," Spock pointed out.

"Won't stop 'em," said Fredrickson.

They crowded into the small waiting room.

"Wait here," instructed the officer. A few minutes later, he returned, along with more officers.

"All right," he said. "What the HELL happened!"

He was startled when everyone immediately turned to the little boy in the center of the room.

"Uh," Jim said, "Okay. It, uh, started when..."

(-)

"So they really didn't break any rules," summed up Kowalski, "and that's the problem. The whole affair is too complicated-- too expensive, too impractical, too _artificial _to be of any real use."

His commanding officer looked at him. "You know they won't like having the excuse to take their falilies to the Lunar Amusement Park taken away."

"No, sir, but I think they'll agree it's necessary. They can just take some vacation time like everyone else. Sir."

"They might," he said, "they might. Thank you for the report, Kowalski. I'll see it gets into the proper hands."

"And, sir... this Jimmy Kirk..."

"I've red-flagged his name. I think we'll want to accept his application. Though we may want to reinforce the toilets first."

"Sir?"

"You'll see. You're dismissed."

"Thank you, sir." Kowalski departed.

The admiral tapped a disk on his desk, in thought. "Damn kid. He'll be good, though, won't he? Which leaves the question of how we'll replace the test... something more specific... more individual... less prone to improvisation... fewer _people_ involved... Maybe one ship... to test command abilities... There was a proposal, some guy named Yamamoto... Well, we'll just look up all the old proposals again."

He smiled to himself. "But we needed a little shaking up, didn't we?..."

(-)


End file.
